Haven
by TiaKisu
Summary: "Doctor" she whispers, her voice thick from fear for the man who all too easily makes the universe believe that nothing could break him. That he is indestructible when really he is not. When in reality he has broken a thousand times over.- Just a little shot. Post Dalek.


_I have tinkered with this one a lot and debated with myself whether to share it or not. In the end, as you can see, I decided to just do it even though this is nothing new or exciting. But after all you never know – you might just bring a smile to someone's face. :)_

_So, I certainly hope you enjoy.  
TK_

_General info: This is set post Dalek, but quite frankly the ep is but an excuse for writing a scene like that. The shot could really take place anytime - I just placed it there because it seemed possible enough to have happened after._

___Disclaimer: Don't own Doctor Who, make no money with this... you know the drill. _

* * *

**Haven**

Her room is filled with soothing darkness when Rose wakes from a dreamless slumber, mind still caught in the tight embrace of much needed sleep while something tears her from the pleasant nothingness that her species is so prone to.

Blinking, she rolls to the side, battles with herself whether to try and silence whatever is it that has her senses sharpen or whether to give in and bring the world around her into focus.  
Her hands clench slightly, grasp at the silken duvet and she is so close to drifting off again, so close to forsaking the call that is meant to rouse her when suddenly she stiffens. Finally, the noise that keeps tugging at her consciousness so relentlessly registers in her head and as it does she instantly is wide awake.

Ripping the quietness of the TARDIS's halls apart, a voice bellows words of hurt and fear and agonizing pain. They ring through the dark, get deflected by the metal walls and echo like thunder all around her.  
She's sitting upright and tense in her bed before she even realizes she's moved, heart beating fast in her chest while her tired mind tries to make sense of what it perceives.

Though the sounds are muffled by the doors that seal her quarters there is no mistaking the owner of that voice, and the knowledge whose it is has her hold her breath while she listens up. It's the Doctor's cries that permeate the blackness, crawling through the night that the TARDIS creates for her passengers on rare occasions. But more than that, it's also as if the ship itself was hurting - her engines whining lowly and melting into her Lord's distress as if she was a part of it, not able to let go, incapable of helping him.

The young woman hesitates for just a tiny moment before she gets up, swinging her legs over the rim of her bed tentatively.  
She doesn't know what's wrong, tries to think of every possibility there is. The Doctor always uses to say that the TARDIS is the safest place she'd ever know, that even the assembled hordes of Genghis Khan couldn't break through her doors although they had tried. It just couldn't be that any hostile presence found its way onboard and was now threatening the ship's inhabitants. Not when they didn't even visit any other place since they left Earth.  
Or at least that is what Rose tells herself, is what she hopes. And still, even if someone or something had intruded, a part of her wonders, would she hide in her room and leave the Doctor to fight on his own?

She is up on her feet before the answer to that question has chance to reach her consciousness, bare skin touching the smooth surface of the floor as she makes her way out into the hall. Out there, the lights are low but of a certain kind of warm colour – a source of comfort when what she hears is shaking her to the core.

In the emptiness of the corridor his voice is so much more powerful and so much weaker all the same, it scares her more than anything else.  
Out here she hears the whispers that before escaped her, hears him gasp and struggle against something that she cannot see.

Hastily, she turns around, tries to work out which way to go and for a split second she wonders whether Adam's up as well.  
After the Doctor had shown the young man to a room he could use whilst travelling with them he had declared her responsible for any trouble the newcomer would cause, a strange mixture of teasing and tiredness edged on his face as he made that clear.  
At that time she had not thought much of it, had just accepted it with a smile – confident that the Englishman would be fine and strangely pleased by how little the Doctor seemed fond of having the boy around – of having anyone disturb their life together. As just the two of them. But now as she stands amidst the echo of his pain, she begins to wish that Adam had not joined them at all and she hopes dearly that the TARDIS made sure he is safe and far away from whatever she, herself, is about to face.

For her part, she silently begs the sentient ship to help her find the man who is all leather and ears and although she has no idea yet what she will do once she does, can't know because she is still struggling to understand, she feels an almost unbearable surge of gratitude rush through her when unexpected a pathway lights up to her right.

The TARDIS is guiding her now and somehow the mere fact that she is calms her down. There is no sign of danger anywhere and with each step that she takes Rose feels like the ship's own wails are slowly fading – almost as if her nearing presence would ease whatever pain was inflicted.

Another few strides and she finds herself in front of a door she has never seen before, the huge gate dark and yet familiar – the intricate patterns of circles and lines on it reminding her of something that she cannot quite put her finger on.  
Instinctively her right hand rises, tracing the engravings in a gentle fashion, not yet daring to push the wood open. But another growl pulls her out of her short reverie, makes her whole body tense and finally she leans against it, pushes carefully until it gives way and grants her access to what lies beyond.

As she moves to enter, her breath catching in a stifled gasp, all that greets her is darkness. While her eyes dart around, all her senses on high alert, she tries to determine where she is and whether there is anything to be wary of. But the only thing she finds is the vast space of a chamber that is in all its essence the Doctor's:

Tall walls loom large around her, emptying into a ceiling that looks to be so distant and out of reach like the very heaven seems to be on Earth. There is a faint glow to everything her gaze touches, almost invisible – a dying flicker that she has only ever seen with fading galaxies that he has shown her and for a reason she cannot fathom she instantly feels her shoulders sink.  
Everything in this room bears his name, all this emptiness and dying light carry his trace and it has her heart go out to him.  
As her eyes adjust to the gloom she takes in all what he never meant anyone else to see, and suddenly she feels guilty for having come here at all. He had never shown her this room, had never given any indication it even existed. And although Rose had always teased him about how she was sure that he, too, had one somewhere in the TARDIS and that he only pretended to need so little rest when in fact he took his naps while Rose was sleeping, she had also considered him to really not bother about profanities such as a bedroom for himself. Yet, now here she was – standing right in front of the dark that was sheets and covers and pillows and… _him_.

Like a shadow his form moves in the distance, illuminated only by the narrow stream of light that enters through the still parted door behind her. He is restless she can see, muscles tensing and making his spine bend as he mutters words that reverberate deep inside her because she's heard them before, remembers the day he had cried them out - terrified and helpless as he had to watch the alien consciousness fly into a rage.

_I couldn't save your world. I couldn't save any of them. It wasn't my fault._

He repeats them over and over again, almost whimpers the last and her heart misses a beat.

The day before had been so straining - not only on a physical scale but also emotionally. After all what had happened at Van Statten's base she had been exhausted, retreating to her room while the Doctor stirred the TARDIS into the vortex, granting them all time to recover from what she knew had pushed him to the very limits of what he could take as well. She still didn't comprehend it in its entirety, all that had happened in this war that he hardly ever spoke about. But what Rose had learned was enough to enable her to conclude what took place right here and now.

Just for once the Time Lord, too, had felt the need to recuperate in more ways than him tinkering with and repairing the TARDIS's system would allow, and all it brought him was the unthinkable pain of a barely covered wound ripped open when he had no means of defending himself.

Whatever happened in this war, whatever he has seen and not been able to prevent – he is forced to live through it again, in those visions that Rose has no access to. The thought of it alone makes her cringe, makes her wish she could just wrest him from his nightmare, could save him when his past is closing in on him. And somewhere in between the worry and compassion that washes over her as she watches him in his struggle, she also feels the anger boil inside of her. Anger at the man, that one greedy human being, who caused the Doctor so much misery. But she swallows the emotion down, ignores it because she is aware it's of no use.

Almost silently she walks the distance, crosses the space that separates her from him and the burden that he carries.  
The closer she gets the more does his anguish encompass her, choking her as much as it chokes him. Her left hand lifts on its own accord, her suddenly trembling fingers linger frozen in mid-air as she finally arrives at his side.

She wants to reach out for him, tear him from the dream that he cannot free himself from, but somehow she's afraid. Afraid and oddly embarrassed to witness all that he keeps so carefully hidden within.  
She can see him clearly now, the face that glistens with the dampness of cold sweat, the man who looks so unbearably vulnerable without his armor on. His upper body is only clad in what seems to be one of his jumpers, its colour indefinable as it is swallowed by the artificial night. Beneath the soft material his chest rises and falls in a quick rhythm and his lips part to release yet another call. Travelling the air his words are a sharp white pain to her own soul as she recognizes them to be the ones she herself has made him utter.

_I couldn't. _

He pleads, as confused and shaken as he was earlier that day.

_I wasn't._

And his hoarse voice is close to breaking, causing bitter tears to sting in her eyes while she bears witness to his agony.

_Rose. They're all dead.  
Dead. _

Gone.  
Leaving him alone in this universe.

As she hears her name she inhales audibly, noticing yet not realizing the importance of that he wanted her to understand, sought her forgiveness when he could not forgive himself.  
His own name is torn from her too tight throat quickly after and she fights hard not to let the shiver that runs through her be heard in it. Finally her hand makes contact with his shoulder, careful and yet determined, and it's in this one fleeting moment that he releases an almighty gasp before his eyes fly open – unguarded blue staring into the dark and beyond the world that lies about them.  
As if she had just been burnt, Rose's fingers withdraw, furling while the Doctor bolts upright, his gaze feral and wild.

Barely daring to do as much as breathe, she cannot make herself say anything – any words that she might have had to offer leaving her as he is lost for an endless second. Undecided and unable to fathom whether what he sees is real.  
His hearts are racing inside him and almost she believes to hear their beat inside her head: a deafening thrumming that makes her own core speed up to match their pace.

_Doctor._

She whispers again, her voice thick from fear for the man who all too easily makes the universe believe that nothing could break him. That he is indestructible when really he is not. When in reality he has broken a thousand times over.

He now looks at her, his mind working to understand where he is and what her presence means. A myriad of emotions passes his features at that, too quick in their sequence for Rose to identify any of them. They are a stream, drowning any conscious thought that could have resonated within her mind, rendering her incapable of doing anything but hold his gaze. That gaze which is so bare and uncovered, betraying everything that he never wanted her to see.

And then without a warning it closes in on her, pulls her into its wake as he darts forwards in one fluid movement.  
Before she even can process what he does his arms are around her, his face burying deep into the crook of her neck as he draws her close, breathing her in as if she is the only thing that can keep him from falling. As if, to him, she is a life line.

She feels the air that leaves his lungs warm against her skin, shudders as she brings her own arms to encircle his back. Against her chest his hearts beat violently, sending tremors to surge through her, making her body tremble just like his does.  
Her hands are shaking even as they clutch at the soft fabric that he wears and she tries to lean into him, tries, in a desperate attempt, to shield this man from all that he is haunted by.

While his own fingers dig into her skin, not hurting and yet painful for they tell of the storm that is raging inside, Rose holds onto him – offers him the only thing she can: a refuge when he has nowhere else to go. Someone to be at his side when just for once his walls come crashing down.  
In her arms, he is only himself now, stripped of every façade that he has built up. In her arms he is not the grand Time Lord anymore, not the one who saves civilizations and planets and lives and it frightens her more than she is able to understand.

As she bends her head in an unconscious gesture his grip on her tightens even further, holding her in place until she rests her cheek against the hem of his jumper. She is not asking him about his dreams, lets no words end the quiet. She knows it would be futile anyway, that the Doctor would not tell her of the demons of his past. And so she just stays with him, in this silent embrace, granting him whatever time he wants her to bestow upon him, his double heartbeat vibrating in her very system until finally the tension subsides.

When at last he relaxes against her she exhales deeply, barely able to stifle the sigh that wants to escape.  
Around her the world is strangely devoid of any sounds now, and just for a moment it seems like he and her were all that exists in this universe. There are no whirring engines anymore, no cries and no pain. No past and no future.  
Only them.  
Only now.

And as sudden as he drew her close, he wordlessly drags her with him when he lies down again, needs her to stay when he does not dare to face the night alone. He lets her slide under the covers, releases her only for how long that takes before his arms claim her again.  
Even in the dark of his chamber she can still see his eyes lie on her, can see them plead with her to forgive him for burdening her like this. But she just smiles, for the first time since she woke, lifts her right hand and threads soft fingers through his long callused ones, brings them to lie close to where the beat of her one heart can invade his senses like a gentle haze.  
Allows him to draw strength from the most unlikely being – allows herself to be a protector and if it's just this once.

While outside the TARDIS tones down the light of the hall, hides it from the view of her newest passenger, relieved and grateful for what her little human has done, the Doctor feels himself slip away. Back into the void that a resting mind creates - succumbing to a need that only so rarely he gives in to.  
Back into a world that despite all the darkness finally knows a light again.

And all that time she guards him, chases the shadows away even when she isn't aware that she does – becomes to him the one thing he has thought to be impossible. Becomes what he believed to never find again.

Becomes.  
His haven.


End file.
